The ludicrously stretched gentleman here — if we could do that, we'd never leave the house! — is Ricky Williams, and if you're the type to never get tired of Ricky Williams stories, well, here's another one.

Same details as usual here ... Ricky doesn't smoke pot anymore ... Ricky had social anxiety disorder ... Ricky wants to get back in the NFL ... Ricky is dangerously close to the ability to autofellate .... Ricky is living on a yoga farm ...

After the class, he was approached by Swami Sita, the camp's director. She told him, "I have a job for you." She gave Ricky a sledgehammer and asked him to knock down two old sheds. It took him two days. It's called karma yoga, selfless service. Swami Sita, obviously a sharp cookie, picked up on what the football world knows: If you're looking for a one-man wrecking crew — take that any way you want — Ricky is your guy.

Swami Sita and Williams sat and talked, and he says, "I've always felt misunderstood, but in two hours, she was able to understand me better than anyone has in my whole life."

You know, we're gonna go out on a limb here, Ricky: You're not particularly deep. You are just easily pointed on a certain direction; you're easily malleable. This is OK. This does not make you a terrible person. It just means that we're full expecting you to be a Scientologist in four years.